Vampire Romance Series - Coffee And Vampires 1-7 (Vampire Romance Bundle) (2 page)

When they reached her door, Nicholas relinquished his hold on the young woman so she could fish out her keys.


I hate to be forward,” he started. Page looked up questioningly. Nicholas held up his right hand in front of him, blood-spattered fingers spread. “But could you allow me inside for a few minutes? I’d like to wash my hands.”

Great way to charm a stranger,
Page groaned inwardly.
Bleed all over him.
“No problem,” she said aloud, unlocking her door. “Come on in.”

At least the apartment was clean, though “bare” might have been a better word to describe it. Page had sprung for a single green and blue lattice-patterned rug to cover the wood floor in the living area as well as a small welcome mat. A black faux-leather folding couch that would have looked more at home in a dorm room than an apartment sat facing her small television set. The attached kitchen felt a bit warmer, as Page spent more of her time there. The bright red coffee maker still had about half a pot of cold brew left in it. Page dumped it down the sink, wishing she’d taken the time to wash her breakfast dishes before leaving that morning.

Nicholas scrubbed his hands thoroughly in the sink, blithely rejecting Page’s attempted apologies. “Getting bled on is a job hazard for me.” He smiled. “And normally the people doing so are nowhere near as pretty as you.”

Page, who had been gingerly attempting to peel the blood-soaked cloths from her head, accidentally jerked them off all at once. A quick pat to the back of her head reassured her that she hadn’t opened up the cut again. Nicholas had begun drying his hands on one of her dishcloths, so Page dumped the reddened bandages into the sink, belatedly remembering that one of them belonged to Nicholas.


I’ll wash it,” she promised.


No worries,” Nicholas replied. He fished in his pockets for a few moments and finally retrieved a card and a pen. Flipping the card onto the kitchen counter, he wrote a few numbers on the back of it. “I don’t think you’re concussed or anything, so you should be fine. Be careful when washing your hair, though.” He handed the card to Page, who stared at it blearily. A phone number.


What for?” Page asked, waving the card a little.


I would very much like to spend some time with you outside the coffee shop without a head injury being involved,” Nicholas said. “I’d been working up the courage to ask for a week or so now. This seems opportune. Call me sometime tomorrow if you’re interested.”

With that and another quick smile, Nicholas let himself out and walked briskly toward the stairs before Page could think of a way to stop him. Stunned, Page turned the card over in her hands. It read simply
Nicholas Morgan, RN
, followed by
Our Saints of Mercy
, which was presumably the name of a hospital. Underneath this was another phone number. Did nurses usually carry business cards? And talk like they’d fallen straight out of one of those old-timey movies where all the men wore suits and all the women seemed to carry fans? Whatever. Page didn’t care.

She tucked the card carefully into her purse. She’d be sure to call him. More immediately, however, she needed a long shower.

Page had just gotten into her favorite pajamas, a pair of purple-striped silk drawstring pants with a matching soft fitted t-shirt, and started cautiously combing out her tangled hair when the doorbell buzzed. Probably Janine, coming in to check on her. Page pressed the button that would unlock the front door to the building without bothering to check the intercom.


Door’s open, Janine!” she said in response to the firm knock that came at the door a few minutes later.

The door opened, but it wasn’t Janine. Instead, a tall young man filled the doorframe, his shoulders nearly brushing the sides of it. His head was stooped slightly to avoid smacking his forehead on the sill, and his blond hair fell rakishly over his eyes.

Page froze, comb still in her hand. She might have screamed but for a vague flicker of memory teased out by his piercing amber-brown eyes and the square set of his jaw. “Van?” she asked cautiously. “Donovan? Is that you?”

The rugged face broke into a huge grin, and he stepped inside, spreading his arms wide. Page leapt off the couch and ran over to hug him. They embraced, but Van stiffened after a moment, sniffing the air.


Blood?” he asked. His voice was not quite as deep as one would expect from a man his size, being a resonant baritone instead of a low bass. He pushed her aside gently and tilted his head. “And…someone else was here.”

Page rolled her eyes. Van had become a werewolf when the two of them were still teenagers, and she’d long since lost any incredulity over it as well as the ability to be impressed by his sense of smell. “Yeah,” she said. “I fell at work and cut my head. One of our customers helped me home.”


You let him in?” Van’s voice took on an accusatory note.


Of course I did, Van.” Naturally, he hadn’t lost his knack at aggravating her. “Come on. It’s been almost three years since I’ve seen you.”

Van shrugged and made his way over to the couch. He sat and began unlacing his shoes.


I came back for you. Like I said I would.”

Page was shaking her head before he finished the first sentence. “I told you when you left that there wouldn’t be another chance.”

Van shrugged one massive shoulder. “I came back anyway. I care about you.”

Page sighed. She and Van had been friends since elementary school. They’d stayed friends, too, through the death of Page’s father and even after Donovan discovered that some members of his family bore the curse of the werewolf. His parents had hoped that it would remain latent in him as it had in his brothers, but it manifested shortly before his fourteenth birthday.

It really wasn’t too bad as far as curses went, Page mused. Involuntary transformations after puberty were supposedly very rare, and Van had learned to control himself in wolf form unusually quickly. He’d even been allowed to tell her what was going on. She wouldn’t have believed him if his parents hadn’t reassured her that he was telling the truth, and even then might have remained dubious if he hadn’t chained himself to a tree in his backyard and transformed right in front of her.

They had even tried dating for a couple of years after graduation, until Van received a summons from relatives living several states away. There had been a lot of arguing, and eventually he simply left. Aside from a few sporadic and occasionally cryptic letters, Page hadn’t heard from him since.

A small, angry sound from Van brought Page back to the present. “I can’t believe you just let him inside.”


Who?” Page asked.


The vampire, of course.”

Page burst out laughing. Van simply looked irritated.


Don’t be ridiculous,” Page managed. “It was
light
out when he brought me home. And he’s a nurse.”


Whatever,” Van muttered. “I know what I smell.”

He softened suddenly, and moved closer to Page on the couch. “I’ve missed you,” he said quietly, putting an arm around her shoulders. “And I worry about you. I’m sorry.”

Page let him hold her, closing her eyes and letting the memories close in.

It had been a long day, and Page didn’t have the energy to argue with Van right now – to tell him why he shouldn’t be here or that she’d moved on. Or to explain why Nicholas, that sweet and awkward man, couldn’t possibly be a bloodsucking creature of the night.

She could tell him tomorrow. For now, it was a relief to feel a familiar body near hers, and she let Van hold her until she fell asleep.

****

Chapter 2

Convincing Donovan that she didn’t really want him staying in her apartment had been easier than Page had dared hope.


I understand. You need your space,” he’d said. Still, he admonished her one last time to be cautious around the stranger who was surely a vampire before heading out. Page had a feeling she’d be seeing Van again, though. He’d never been the sort to give up easily. Plus he’d always had a strong protective streak, even before becoming a werewolf, and that apparently hadn’t changed.

Like a loyal dog
, Page thought, stifling a giggle. Calling Van a “dog” or even a “puppy” had been an easy way to annoy him back in high school.


You’re cheery today,” Janine remarked. Page realized belatedly that she’d been humming while steaming milk.

Page grinned cheekily as she poured the next drink. “Things are just going well, I guess!”

Janine raised an eyebrow. “No, no. There’s
something
.”

The bells hung over the front door jingled, and Page jerked her head toward the sound. She was disappointed, though, when the new customers turned out to be only a couple high school students stopping in after school.

Janine wasn’t about to let her off the hook, either. “You’re wearing your favorite black skinny jeans and heels, and it looks like you finally tried that lipstick I gave you. That’s more than just high spirits.” The blond, short woman stroked her chin melodramatically as she continued. “
And
you’ve been jumping every time the door’s opened for the past half-hour.” She gasped and clapped one hand to her chest before pointing an accusing finger toward Page. “You’ve got a date!”

Page rolled her eyes at the theatrics. “Guilty as charged.” She handed Janine the now-completed hazelnut latte. “Now could you get this where it belongs?”

The head injury had been a small stroke of luck, honestly. Just a few days ago, Page had been having one of the worst days she could imagine, culminating with a nasty fall on the café’s tile floor. Fortuitously, one of the regulars decided to help her out. His name was Nicholas, and he’d not only gotten her home but also left her his phone number. Van had arrived at her apartment shortly after Nicholas left and almost immediately made the ridiculous accusation that the tall, thin nurse was really a vampire. Donovan hadn’t even
seen
Nicholas and was basing the whole thing on smell.

It was utterly absurd. Even Van had to admit that vampires couldn’t walk around during the day, which Page had seen Nicholas doing plenty of times. Besides, whoever heard of a vampire needing glasses to see clearly?

Nicholas had been polite and charming over the phone the following day, and asked graciously if he could be allowed to surprise Page with the evening’s activities. He’d phrased it almost exactly like that, too.

And now it was Friday, and Nicholas would be meeting Page at the end of her shift. She idly wondered if he’d be getting his afternoon coffee elsewhere before picking her up. As the clock approached and then passed four-thirty, this seemed to be the case. Page tried not to act disappointed or nervous; her shift was over at six, and Nicholas would arrive then. Probably exactly on time, too. He seemed like that sort.

Page was right. Nicholas walked into the café while she was clocking out in back. She returned to the counter to find Nicholas waiting for her. He extended an arm, which Page took, trying to look nonchalant about it. She glanced back at Janine, who gave her a covert thumbs-up.


My car’s in the lot down the block,” Nicholas explained as they walked. “Though we won’t be going far. I assume you’re up for dinner?”

Page nodded, trying not to babble with excitement. Nicholas was as attractive as she remembered. He was dressed down a little, having eschewed his usual dark suit for a pair of dark brown trousers, button-down shirt, and a sleek dark grey wool peacoat. His dark curly hair seemed to have resisted styling as usual, and his blue eyes were bright behind his thick rimmed glasses.


Where are we going?” Page asked.

Nicholas smiled. “You’ll see.” He pulled out a set of car keys and unlocked a very clean blue VW Bug.

Page stared at the car for a few moments without getting inside. Nicholas raised his eyebrows.


Your car,” Page said finally, “is
adorable.

Nicholas’s smile turned a bit sheepish. “I’m tall, and I wanted something with good fuel economy that still had headroom.”

Page waved him off and climbed inside. “I love these cars. My dad used to have one.”

Nicholas proved to be a very cautious driver, one who hesitated just a shade longer than necessary at intersections. “I don’t usually have passengers,” he explained a bit nervously. “I live alone and usually walk everywhere.”

They eventually pulled into a parking spot in front of a small shop on the outskirts of an older area of town. Page didn’t know the neighborhood very well but recognized it by its uneven brick streets. Most of the buildings were from the 1940s or earlier, many with tacked-on additions or obviously recently renovated roofs.

The shop in question looked like it had once been a small cottage. A hand-painted green sign hung over the door said, simply,
COFFEE.


A café?” Page asked.

Nicholas nodded. “It’s very different from where you work, and I know you love coffee. The food’s supposed to be great, too.”

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